บท 14: The Matches Begin
To Henry's relief, the younger boy bumped the edge of his silver sword against the onyx one he wielded.
It wasn't a rule to acknowledge someone's good sportsmanship, but it was a sign of respect. It would look bad from the audience's perspective if someone to be a knight one day wasn't polite.
With that, the match started, and they both backed away from each other.
Henry could already hear the noise of other swords clashing against each other as others had more energetic matches.
They circled slowly, never facing away from each other until Henry decided that he had better act first.
Cutting his raised onyx sword in a half circle, he tried to go for a side swipe and knock the boy back a few feet, but it didn't work and he was countered easily with a block. The metal of their swords striking each other felt like the loudest sound in the arena.
They knocked swords a couple more times before the boy tried to do a straightforward jab into Henry's chest, and he easily evaded it by swatting it away with one of his metal greaves. The feeling of such a sharp blade coming close to him caused adrenaline to course through his veins and his heart beat excitedly.
The first part of the round was over; 90 seconds had passed in what felt like a blink.
Henry and the boy stared at each other, shoulders heaving as they tried to calm down from the excitement. Their swords weren't ever sheathed, and they simply waited for the horn to go off again.
Soon the match started, and they continued their show of good sportsmanship. However, Henry surprised his opponent by not backing down and staying where he was. He was trying to give the boy confidence to strike him again at closer proximity.
With each slice of his sword, Henry quickly evaded.
The boy seemed to get frustrated the more Henry avoided his sword. With his frustration came exhaustion as he used his energy for his emotions rather than the match at hand. If Henry could keep avoiding him, it would wear the boy down eventually.
Speed was going to be how he would win the match, while the younger boy was relying heavily on brute force.
Henry purposefully taunted the boy, giving him weak spot after weak spot, and he successfully dodged or blocked each jab. Maximus was responsible for his speed. He had no hope of landing a blow on him if he didn't get faster or figure out how to conserve his energy enough for bursts of speed.
As the boy got further frustrated and winded, his form started getting sloppy. Henry, on the other hand, kept each movement of his sword sharp and concise. In his mind, Alix's voice could be heard telling him to clean up his form or he would waste energy on sloppiness.
Finally, Henry pictured Trenton being able to take down another knight with brute force alone. He made the decision right away to honor the knight who had taught him the most by using force to stop the boy.
Calculating his opponent's upper strike, Henry blocked the blow with the bottom part of his sword. The move risked his fingers, but the risk paid off.
With both hands on the leather handle of his sword, he used all his strength to swipe upward, causing the boy's sword to fly out of his hands and him to fall backward, but he caught himself before his body could meet the hard ground.
Immediately, Henry pointed the onyx sword at his opponent's neck.
"I'm done! I'm done!" The boy yelled with his hands raised.
If it were a real fight, Henry would have been able to go so far as to fatally stab him.
To the boy, the apprentice armor was feeling lighter than normal. With a sword pointed at his vulnerable neck, he felt that he might as well be naked in front of an arena full of onlookers.
The match was called, and others were still going on.
There was cheering from the crowd at the end of one of the matches, and he couldn't help the huge smile that spread across his face. He lifted his sword in the air, just as he had seen the knights do in the earlier bracket.
Henry avoided glancing at the tent where the princess was or he would get nervous.
For once in his life, he felt important. No one cared that he was a peasant; they just liked that he put on an entertaining match.
Henry was permitted to go back to the hallways underneath the arena while the other matches finished.
He felt strangely energized despite the energy he had to exert to knock his opponent's sword out of his hands.
Trenton quickly tracked down Henry, and he clasped the younger man's shoulder, a giant grin on his face.
"You showed fine instinct out there," Trenton said. "Keep your spirits up, but don't get overconfident. It only gets tougher from here."
It didn't take nearly long enough for the last half of the first round to finish.
Henry's nervous energy continued building, and he went into the training grounds so he could swing around his sword and try to concentrate it on something else.
Trenton eventually warned him that he was using too much energy and would exhaust himself in future rounds. They returned to the doorway to the arena, watching the other matches finish before there was a 15-minute break, and Henry asked to return to the arena.
The second and third matches were much like the first. He mimicked the movements of the knights who trained him as he tried to break through and figure out his sword fighting style.
The moments he felt he did the best were when he wasn't thinking so much and was only reacting. He needed to figure out how to get out of his brain and let his body respond to whatever obstacle stood in his way.
In the second match, his opponent was nearly the same height and experience level. He had to distract the other man to get in a surprise strike that knocked him backward and onto his back as he avoided the blade.
By the third, he was feeling the fatigue of the day start to get to him and he was worried about getting through the match in one piece.
His opponent was powerful and large. Each time he brought down his sword, Henry was afraid of losing a limb.
His energy was being chipped away each time he had to block one of his powerful blows. He was certain his hand was bruising from each time he had to stabilize the blade and use it more like a shield rather than a sword.
When there was a window of space, Henry went in for a downward strike that would meet the other man's shoulder if he didn't block it.
He knew he didn't have the strength to follow through with that strike. It was meant to distract his opponent so he could kick his upper thigh with his brown boot.
The man hinged forward, having locked his knee to block the sword that was flying at him.
As he steadied himself, Henry did one final thrust with his sword and his opponent stumbled to the ground.
As soon as the man was on the ground in front of him, Henry stared at the sword in his hands with wide eyes.
He had done it. He had made it to the final round.
Realization struck him and he nearly forgot about the onlookers cheering for him. He had to blink a few times before he held up the sword and gave a genuine smile.
Despite the bruises certainly forming on his body and the way his shoulders were burning each time he lifted the sword, he found this moment to be bliss. The energy was returning to him at the sight of people in the stands.
He made it, he thought.
The peasant made it.
Before he could celebrate, he had to get through the finals with his head.
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